


you're right in the center

by smc_27



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: AU, College AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29416107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smc_27/pseuds/smc_27
Summary: Honestly, she’s tired of being sad. She wants to not be sad. She wants to remind herself that she wasn’t always sad.“What do you think you need to do to move on?” he asks, and there’s just...There’s no doubt in her mind what he’sactuallyasking.So she tilts her chin up slightly, smiling at him to let him know she’s absolutely onto him, and says, “Not you,” and likes that he just laughs in response.
Relationships: Harry Bingham/Allie Pressman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	you're right in the center

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by the songs 'bar back', 'getting over him', and 'seen you in your hometown' by lauren alaina. and by inspired by i really mean created from.

The thing that really pisses her off is she doesn’t see it coming.

Dan literally kissed her goodbye at the door this morning and told her he loves her. They didn’t have plans, or anything, but that doesn’t mean she expected to see him when she was on her way to grab a quick lunch before class. And to be clear, seeing him is not the issue. No, the issue is he’s holding hands with this gorgeous girl, and he laughs and pulls her in for a kiss right there on the sidewalk. Just like he does with Allie all the time. Just like he’s done for the past _nine months_ they’ve been together. 

She’s never really understood what it meant to feel your blood boil, but she gets it now. Which is interesting, because she’s been _mad_ plenty of times in her life. _Plenty_ of times. But this...this is something different. This is anger fuelled by sudden and distinct heartbreak, and she is _furious_.

“Hey, baby,” she says sweetly, really hamming it up. She’s never once called him that. He looks ashen immediately as she approaches. _Good_. “Who’s your friend?”

She blinks a few times, and the woman looks between Dan and Allie, then pulls her hand away, physically puts space between them, and crosses her arms. 

It’s fucked that Allie thinks this is fun. It’s truly fucked. 

Anyway, he bumbles through some excuse or another, which neither Allie nor this other woman buy for a fraction of a goddamn second. The woman - Bridgitte - asks Alie how long they’ve been together, and then scoffs and glances at Dan again when Allie answers. Apparently he’s been dating this other woman for months. Allie feels like a fucking fool but does her best not to show it on her face. 

She doesn’t cry until she gets home. She skips class because she’s not even going to pretend she’ll be able to focus on anything other than how upset she is. She wants to pretend she’s just pissed, that he doesn’t mean anything, that he isn’t worth the time. But that’s not reality. In reality, she’s in love with this guy - she was in love with this guy - and he’s been cheating on her for like half their relationship. She can’t believe someone she felt that way for - who told her he felt the same - could do this to her. How can you tell someone you love them and then turn around and lie to their face, do something so objectively horrible? How could he even pretend to care about her feelings and then do this? 

She should talk to someone. She should call Becca or have Sam over or something. But she honestly feels like such an idiot for trusting this guy - this guy who was so attractive and smart and everything she thought she wanted…

God, how much of it was real and how much of it was all just pretend so he could get her to fall for him? 

It’s scary how quickly this has made her not want to trust anyone. 

Later in the evening, when Becca and Sam do come over, they all get into her bed and eat pizza and fancy ice cream Sam splurged on for them. She’s done crying. For today. She’s fucking pissed again. Dan’s called her three times and texted eight messages in a row without her replying. Every time another comes through. Becca reads it out loud and they all laugh. Each message is more pathetic than the last.

Allie’s so thankful she met Becca, and that her cousin ended up at the same school as her. Sam’s an RA in his dorm, and Becca has a place in a building a few blocks away from Allie’s. Allie’s lived in this apartment - this cute studio on the top floor of a house, with slanted ceilings and lots of natural light - since first year. There was a mixup with the registrar’s office and financial aid, and…Anyway, she’s lived on her own since she arrived here for school, and she’d been so worried she wouldn’t be able to meet and connect with anyone. But she’s got Becca, and Sam, and Grizz, and a bunch of friendly acquaintances. This year she’s met Helena in her Art History elective, too, and…

“I love you guys,” she says, and then sees Becca give Sam a look over Allie’s own head. Okay, so Becca brought prosecco, too. Two bottles. Which are now gone. Which they’ve been drinking out of whiskey glasses because Allie doesn't have champagne flutes.

“We love you, too,” Becca tells her softly, like she understands that Allie needs to hear it from someone who means it. 

Sam pats Allie on the thigh. “You’ll get over this,” he tells her gently, and it’s not placating and doesn’t diminish the fact that Allie’s never actually experienced heartbreak like this before. He’s just saying it like a fact, to remind her that this is literally day one and she won’t always feel this way. 

Allie leans her head against his shoulder and falls asleep with The Good Place playing on her laptop because Becca has a thing for Kristen Bell and Sam generally just loves this show. 

She wakes up in the morning with an awful headache, feels someone behind her and then it takes her a few minutes before she remembers that everything with Dan exploded and it’s not him in her bed. 

She cries in the shower while Becca and Sam tidy up even though she didn’t ask them to. 

She thinks this particular cocktail of emotions - sadness, embarrassment, shame, anger - can be all wrapped up into one, and she thinks she’d call it misery.

… … …

After two weeks of being fucking depressed and feeling all this shit, Allie just wants it to be over. She wants to not feel anything at all for Dan, other than indifference. It doesn’t work that way, obviously. She’s spoken to him, because he wouldn’t _stop fucking calling_. He gave her some weak apology about how he thinks there’s something wrong with him, emotionally, because he can’t be fulfilled even by love. It’s bullshit. Especially after learning through a friend of a friend that he actually cheated on her a couple other times, too. At least a couple other times.

Once he gives up on trying to get her to forgive him - and it just makes her more angry that he thinks she’s the kind of person who would - he asks when he can come pick up his things. She knows exactly what he’s going to try to do before he even shows up to do it. And honestly the only reason she didn’t just leave his shit in a box on the porch is that he literally left his XBox at her place and she’d feel shitty if someone stole it. 

He puts his hand on her hip as soon as he walks in, tries to kiss her and stops when she pushes at his chest and tells him no. He says he wants to make it up to her, that the other girls meant nothing, that he was just scared of what he felt about her. 

“Which is it, Dan?” she laughs, shaking her head, taking a step back when he moves forward again. “You can’t be emotionally fulfilled, or you loved me too much?” 

He gets a look on his face like he’s panicking at being caught out on the lie. Allie just stares at him and waits. She’s really good with silences. She’s not going to start talking just to feel more comfortable. She’s especially not going to do it to make him feel more comfortable. 

As he leaves with his box of junk in his arms, he turns back to her, says, “You know, this is the reason it’s hard to be with you,” and Allie folds her arms over her chest and raises her brow as if to ask what the fuck he’s saying, even though she really doesn’t want to know. “Most of the time it’s like you’d rather be alone. Like you don’t need me.”

She lets out a sound of disgust, because _fuck him_. Is he serious? Like, is he actually saying it’s _her fault_ he cheated on her with a bunch of other women and lied to her face. 

She says, “I don’t,” as she’s closing the door. He has to move so it doesn’t hit him. 

… … …

Honestly, she’s tired of being sad. She wants to not be sad. She wants to remind herself that she wasn’t always sad. 

“Let’s go out,” she says to Becca, sitting down on the grass on campus where they said they’d meet. It’s a Friday morning and she thinks tonight’s as good a time as ever to go out and get drunk and maybe flirt with strangers. Honestly, she could use the attention. 

Becca says, “Okay,” almost too easily, and they don’t have to talk about where they’re going, because they almost always go to the same place. 

It’s their bar. Their bar in the sense that they found it last year for Becca’s 21st and have been going there regularly since. Allie actually can’t remember a time since that they _didn’t_ go there and went somewhere else instead. The bartenders are nice, and they carry this particular brand of vodka Allie loves and there’s a dance floor at the back. Sunday through Wednesday it’s just a regular pub, but Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights there’s a DJ and drink specials and no cover for women. Allie thinks it’s the kind of place she should hate, but she doesn’t. 

They get ready at Allie’s place, because this is their thing, too. They do shots so they’re drunk when they arrive and don’t have to spend as much on alcohol at the bar. They’re listening to some playlist Becca found that’s all throwback hits they immediately get nostalgic over, and Allie doesn’t feel like putting on a bunch of makeup, but she does swipe on some mascara and highlighter, and this lip gloss she loves that she stole from her sister over winter break when they were both home. 

She wears black jeans and a pale pink crop top because she loves this outfit and doesn’t care what anyone says. Anyone being Becca, who tries to get her to put on this tight tank top with lace at the bottom that is _literally_ lingerie.

As Allie pours them both another couple shots, Becca’s on her phone, and before she lifts one of the shot glasses she says, “My friend Harry might come.”

Allie’s never met Harry, which is hilarious, honestly, considering she’s known Becca almost four entire years now, and Harry and Becca grew up together. When Allie asks why that is, Becca reminds her he just started law school in town after doing his undergrad in Boston. Right. There’s no reason she would’ve met him before, except they’re nearing the end of this school year and he’s been in town for the duration of it. Whatever. Apparently he’s super busy and also has a group of friends of his own. 

Allie doesn’t care. She doesn’t care sober, and right now, she’s definitely drunk enough to _really_ not care. 

They manage to get a high top table at the back when they arrive, and Becca goes off to get them drinks while Allie surveys the room for anyone they might know. Helena said she and her boyfriend were going out tonight, too, but starting at this other place with Luke’s friends and maybe they’d come by after. Allie kind of loves partying with Luke. He’s your typical jock who knows how to have a good time, and not that it’s about this, but he also has enough money that when he’s around no one else ever has to pay. Not that that’s why she likes him. It just doesn’t hurt.

When Becca comes back, she’s holding two drinks and Grizz is walking behind her with a beer in his hand. “Look who I found,” Becca proclaims, and Allie gets up to hug him. She hasn’t seen him in a couple weeks, since he offered to meet her for coffee to talk through her feelings. Which she’d really appreciated, because Grizz always has good advice and perspective. 

Allie’s on her second drink when Dan walks in, and Becca grips her arm and Allie is so mad and so emboldened by vodka that she pulls her arm away and marches over, grabs his wrist and pulls him right out the front door so they’re standing on the sidewalk in the dark under just a streetlamp. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

He has the audacity to smile at her and try to take her hand, so she wrenches away from him and glares. “Same thing you are.” 

“No,” she says, though that doesn’t really make any sense. “You can’t be _here_. This place is mine. Find your own bar.”

He laughs. He _laughs_. She’s never hit anyone in her life, and she isn’t going to hit him now, obviously, but she understands why people slap guys across the face. She thinks it might be satisfying. 

“It’s not _your_ bar. You can’t make me leave.”

“It is mine.” Honestly, she doesn’t give a shit if he goes to any other place they’ve ever been together, but he can’t come here. “You didn’t even know about this place until I brought you here.” He moves closer again. She’s getting _seriously_ pissed that he keeps trying to touch her. “Stop.”

Then there’s this stranger nearby who comes up next to him, a bit of a concerned look on his face, his brow all furrowed, and asks, “Are we good here?”

Allie just stares at him and wonders how loudly she just said that. Dan looks embarrassed, which is good. He should be embarrassed. He’s pathetic. 

“Yeah,” she says, throws this stranger a gentle smile. She sort of likes that he stopped and stepped in when he saw something he thought might be a bad situation. “Dan’s just leaving.”

“Baby, come on,” he tries, flashing her a smile she used to love. She just stares him down. 

“I’m not your baby.” He sighs, says something about his friends still being inside. “Good thing you have a phone to text them from. You might recognize it as the same phone you used to text all those girls you cheated on me with.”

The stranger takes a step away, seems satisfied that Allie can handle herself and that this interaction is pretty much done anyway. She just put the final nail in the coffin, didn’t she? He walks off and goes inside. Maybe Allie will thank him later or something, if she sees him. 

Dan looks at her, seems to realize - finally, _finally_ \- that she was really serious when she said she never wanted to see him again, and nods. He pulls out his phone and starts walking away without saying anything else, and Allie tries not to think too hard about the fact that he really only seems to want to fight for her when they’re right in front of each other. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want him, anyway.

She collects her thoughts, enjoys some fresh air for a minute and then walks back into the bar. She waves at Nick, the bartender, because he was too busy earlier to see her. He smiles back, which she knew he would. She really just loves this whole place. It’s stupid, but she’s really glad she didn’t back down with Dan. 

He can’t have this. It’s hers.

When she gets back to the table, the stranger from outside is there, a bottle of Stella in his hand as he leans his elbow on the table and grins at her. Shit. 

“Allie!” Becca shouts over the music. The guy furrows his brow and glances at Becca quickly. “This is Harry!”

Oh. Oh, _fuck_.

“ _This_ is Harry?” Allie asks, and it’s honestly less about the fact that he just witnessed what he did outside and more about the fact that he is _way_ hotter than she was expecting him to be. Like, no offense to Becca, but she’s done a shit job of describing him. Not that Allie has asked. Harry’s been around just since the beginning of the year, and Allie was in a relationship with someone else that whole time. His looks didn’t matter.

But he’s like, super gorgeous. 

“The one and only,” he says, and Allie sips her drink and locks eyes with him and tries to think of something to say. But it’s hard when he’s just looking at her like that. Like they have a secret. Which she supposes they do. 

Becca and Grizz saw her go towards Dan, and they can probably assume something happened. But they’re not asking, and Allie thinks that has something to do with the fact that she told them both she doesn’t want tonight to have anything to do with him. She’s pissed at him for ruining that, too. 

After finishing her entire drink too fast - which she’ll probably regret because she’s supposed to be just sipping to maintain her current level of drunkness - she says, “Nice to meet you.”

He grins at her, and says, “You too,” in such a way that…he sounds...

It’s just hot. 

She turns back towards Becca and Grizz. “Anyway, he’s gone. I basically told him he can’t come here because this is my spot.”

In her periphery, she can still see Harry smirking. 

“No more fuckboys,” Becca says, raising her glass. Allie beams at her, but damn. Her glass is empty. Harry slides his beer across the table towards her, an offering for her to cheers with, and she smiles briefly as she takes it, taps it against Becca’s glass and takes a swig. She makes a face - she hates beer - and presses it back into his palm. 

“Can I get you a refill?” he asks, and Allie nods. “What’s your order?”

“Grapefruit vodka and soda.” He makes a face like that sounds bad, but obviously he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “It’s delicious.”

He just laughs, asks everyone else if they want something, and then heads back towards the bar. Grizz looks at Becca, then glances over his shoulder to make sure Harry’s far enough away. 

“He’s hot,” Grizz says, and Allie laughs. It surprises her, too. “Single?”

Grizz isn’t asking for himself. He and Sam have been together for like three years. Allie thinks he’s talking for her, or something, but she ignores it. Even if she is unexpectedly interested in the answer to the question. 

Becca rolls her eyes. 

Allie gets it. She’s heard all about Harry. _All_ about him. How his first girlfriend also ended up eventually being Becca’s first girlfriend. How he treated Kelly when he was a young, dumb, idiot of a boy. A rich kid who had elaborate parties at his house. Apparently, he still does that. Life of the party, the guy everyone invites when they want it to be a good time. A couple months ago, Becca’d tried to convince Allie to come to a thing he’d organized that sounded highly dangerous and potentially illegal. She’d said no because she and Dan were watching a movie, but then after, when Becca was telling her about the evening, Allie’d kind of felt like she’d missed out. And she’s heard, in the last however many months it’s been that he’s been here, that he’s almost gotten into more than a couple fights because he tends to run his mouth and doesn’t know when to stop. Allie can definitely picture it when she thinks of how quickly she’d been ready to have a go at Dan. 

Anyway, Becca’s saying some version of this. That she loves Harry and he’s one of her closest friends, and she doesn’t want to sound like an asshole, but he’s not _dating_ material. Grizz mutters something about having said nothing of dating, and Becca’s laughing when Harry comes back to the table and slides their drinks towards them. 

“Thanks,” Allie says, and he winks, which is...Who fucking does that? He leans his elbow on the table again, turns to look out at the dance floor. “You dance much?”

He laughs a little around a sip of his beer, shakes his head. “No.” Okay, well… That doesn’t help her with like, conversation, or whatever. “No, I just. You know. Don’t mind watching.” 

He subtly looks her up and down. This old Cardi B song comes on and Allie’s got her eyes locked with his, then reaches for Becca’s hand and tugs her towards the dance floor. 

She knows she’s flirting with him. Or something. _Something_. She doesn’t know why she’s doing it. Except that he’s hot and she’s had too much to drink. 

When they’re dancing and Allie’s wiping sweat from her temple and trying not to catch glimpses of him as he talks to Grizz, Becca absolutely sees through it and calls her on it. 

“Don’t,” Becca laughs, hips moving, arms up, and then her hands coming to rest on Allie’s shoulders. “Harry doesn’t like, _date_.”

“Why do you keep talking about dating?” Allie asks, and then realizes what that sounds like. She rolls her eyes. “God, I’m definitely not ready for that shit.”

“Okay, well.” Becca laughs again, almost a cackle, and Allie doesn’t like the song that comes on next, and mostly wants to go have more alcohol. “Don’t sleep with him, either. It’s like, weirdly incestuous already.”

“That sounds like your fault, not mine,” Allie argues, and knows it’s true. “Anyway, I’m not going to sleep with him. I can think he’s hot without sleeping with him.”

“Mhm.” Becca sounds like she doesn’t believe it.

“Trust me. Even if I wanted a rebound - which I don’t - I wouldn’t pick your friend.”

Becca loops her arm through Allie’s and they start back towards the table. “If you say so. I just know when you’re looking at someone like you wanna bone them.”

“Becca!” Allie squeals, hits her friends arm gently, and they’re laughing hysterically when they make it back to the table. Harry’s watching her. She ignores that, turns towards Grizz and asks him to remind her again where Sam is tonight. 

They get into a conversation about one of Grizz’s philosophy classes. They have a lot in common, really, because she’s majoring in English Lit and a lot of the themes seem to overlap. She always likes talking to Grizz. He’s one of her favourite people. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see that Harry and Becca have their heads bent together and they’re talking. Becca gestures towards Allie but she thinks she’s not supposed to notice. She tucks her hair behind her ear and pays closer attention to what Grizz is saying, and then she hears Harry’s laugh and the two walk off together. When they return again, there’s another drink placed in front of her and she really should stop after this one. She should. 

Becca’s pointing out a girl from one of her classes that she thinks is hot, is asking Grizz if she should go over and talk to her, and Harry touches Allie’s arm gently. She’s laughing at the response Grizz just gave Becca when she turns to look at Harry. 

“Wanna get some air?” he asks, and holds up a vape pen. She can’t smoke - tobacco or weed - and drink at the same time or she’ll get sick, but she says yes anyway, grabs her drink off the table and ignores the look Becca’s giving both of them as they walk towards the back door that leads out onto the patio. 

It’s cooler outside than it is inside, and before the door’s even closed Harry’s taking a hit, and the smell of weed fills the air. She doesn’t mind at all. He offers it to her, but she shakes her head as she lifts her hair off the back of her neck. She’s still sweating from the heat inside and from dancing. Her shirt rides up and Harry looks down. 

Maybe she does want a rebound. 

He’s reaching over, and she doesn’t know what he’s doing until his index finger is tugging her chain out from beneath the collar of her top and he’s smiling, using his other hand to lift his pen to his lips again for another hit. 

“Cute,” he says, referring to her necklace. 

“Thanks.” Honestly, it’s like she’s forgotten to talk to guys in even just the amount of months she had a serious boyfriend. No, no. A boyfriend she thought was serious about them. _Fuck_. “Thanks for earlier,” she says, and Harry just watches her face as he blows smoke away from them and the wind takes it. “Outside. My ex.”

“Yeah,” he says, instead of ‘you’re welcome’. Which is not a big deal, just something she notices. “Becca gave me the brief. Sounds like an asshole.”

“Mm. I have really good taste.”

Harry laughs, smiles down at her. They’re standing really close. Why are they standing so close? “I didn’t know it was you out there. I just...I guess I didn’t like the way he was crowding you like that.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, and then louder, “I didn’t like that, either.” Harry gives her a sympathetic look before hitting his vape again. “Anyway, it’s fine. I just want him out of my life at this point.”

Harry gives her that grin again, then slips his vape back into his pocket and sips his beer. She takes a sip of her drink, too, just for something to do. 

“What do you think you need to do to move on?” he asks, and there’s just...There’s no doubt in her mind what he’s _actually_ asking. 

So she tilts her chin up slightly, smiling at him to let him know she’s absolutely onto him, and says, “Not you,” and likes that he just laughs in response. 

“Yeah, Becca told me to stop hitting on you.”

Allie’s brows furrow and she slips her hand into the back pocket of her jeans. “Were you hitting on me?”

He lets out a quick breath, says, “Apparently not well enough.” Allie rolls her eyes and he just smiles at her, has another drink. “Well look.” He stops, then takes a breath and checks her out again, which...it’s not entirely unpleasant, but she doesn’t know what he’s doing. “If you want help getting over that guy, you should give me a call.”

Allie raises a brow, ignores the feeling in her belly, and swirls her drink around in her glass. “Is this your way of saying you wanna give me your number?”

He looks properly adorable at being called out for it, gives her a smile that is _way_ too handsome, and says, “Yeah.”

She really should not pull her phone out of her pocket and hand it to him so he can enter his contact, but she does, and he does, and then he’s draining his beer, setting the empty on a nearby table, and then gesturing with his head towards the door to go back inside. His arm brushes her waist when he opens the door and she walks through. She wonders how pissed Becca would be if she did go home with him. 

No. No, she can’t do that. She already told him she’s not going to sleep with him. She can’t go back on that. And she thinks Becca is right. Maybe incestuous isn’t the right word, but there’s clearly a lot of history and weird connections and Allie really doesn’t feel like complicating that even more.

Grizz leaves around 1am in an Uber because he gets a text from Sam inviting him over. He goes beet red when they make fun of him for it, but whatever. Allie remembers what that’s like, too; the ‘end of the night, you’ve been out with different groups of friends and then come back together to go home’ thing. 

Becca’s staying at her place like they’d planned, and the other thing Allie loves about this bar is that it’s walking distance home. Stumbling distance, Becca likes to say. It’s just six blocks, but when they leave at like 2:15, Harry doesn’t seem to think it’s smart or reasonable for them to leave and walk alone. Allie thinks they’d be fine, but is secretly sort of...She just thinks it’s nice. Earlier with Dan and again now, he’s been interested in her safety. It doesn’t make him special. Any decent human would do the same. But she likes the way he just starts walking with them and doesn’t make a big thing of it. 

Becca’s between them, and she and Harry share a look over their friends’ head. 

She’s thinking about that look, and the one he gave her on the patio, and then the one he gives her outside her place when she’s got her keys in her hand and she leans in to hug him, one arm going around his shoulders. He smells fucking incredible. It’s kind of gross how much she likes it. 

She and Becca get into bed and the room is spinning and Allie’s thinking of the way he’d said, “Let me know if you change your mind, Allie,” into her ear when he was holding her. 

… … …

The thing she wasn’t expecting - especially this many weeks after the breakup - was how lonely she’d feel. Honestly, it makes her feel a little pathetic. She’s just used to, at this point, having someone to waste time with, and someone to do even boring things with. Even studying, or going to the gym. Those are things she used to do with Dan when they were together. 

She doesn’t _miss him_ , but she does miss the companionship that came with having someone whose preference was to spend time with her. God, that thought almost makes her laugh. Whose preference she _thought_ was to spend time with her. Her friends have been amazing, but she doesn’t expect them to baby her or fill her days, and she’s not that fucking fragile. 

She just liked having a person, you know?

Becca says, “I’m your person,” and Allie smiles, puts her legs over her friend’s lap. “But honestly, maybe it’s time to get back out there.” Allie rolls her eyes. “Don’t do that. It’s been like, six weeks. You’re not allowed to be hung up on cheaters this long. It’s against the rules.” 

Allie laughs again, but you know what? That seems like a good rule. She wants to correct and say she’s not hung up on him, but that doesn’t really feel like the point here. 

“I don’t think I want a relationship,” she says, which feels true, and the way Becca looks at her lets her know that a relationship is absolutely not what she was suggesting. 

Allie immediately thinks of Harry and what he said a couple weeks ago. 

She can’t say she’s not intrigued. Interested. Very into the idea of him being the one to…

“Let’s reactivate your Bumble,” Becca says, way too excitedly, and Allie can’t snatch her phone off the table before Becca does. She obviously doesn’t know the password, and Allie...She hates dating apps, but maybe it’ll be fun to sit here with Becca and update her profile and do some swiping. That’s the most fun part about using these apps anyway. 

It’s three days before she has some guy call her a stuck up bitch when he calls her pretty and she takes two hours to respond. Deleting the app feels better than swiping did. 

She and Grizz meet for a drink at the bar on a Tuesday evening because they both have a class that goes til 7:00 and have started meeting on campus to study together or get food. Tonight, neither of them has any pressing reading to do, so Grizz suggests a beer and Allie gets her own preferred drink instead, but they share a basket of fries and talk anyway, and Grizz says something about how they all went out on the weekend when she’d had to stay in studying, and that Harry was there looking hotter than he did the night they’d all spent together prior to that one. 

Allie’s about halfway through her drink and wondering if she should go for a second when Grizz wipes his hand on his napkin, grins, and says, “He was asking about you.”

She tries not to react, stirs her ice with her straw and says, “Oh yeah?” Grizz knocks her knee with his and she looks up at him. “What?”

He just gives her a look like he can see through her, or something. “He asked Becca if you were joining. Laughed at her when she asked why he wanted to know.”

Allie chuckles, rolls her eyes in exaggerated fashion. “Becca thinks he’s a player and told me not to sleep with him.” 

Grizz gets a devious glint in his eye and leans his elbow on the table, bends closer to her. “Who says Becca needs to know?” Allie laughs out loud and shakes her head. “Harry looks like the kind of guy who could keep a secret.” She doesn’t know what that even means, honestly. “Anyway, isn’t she the one telling you to find someone to take to bed?”

Allie has _no_ idea how he knows that. Except...She narrows her eyes and looks at him. “Was Becca talking about this when you were out?” she asks, and then adds, for clarification, “Like, in front of Harry?”

Grizz just grins. Fuck. 

“He was trying really hard to pretend he wasn’t hearing it. I think he thinks he’s a better actor than he actually is.” 

Allie knocks back her drink, decides a second is definitely in order. “Would appreciate you all not discussing my love life without me there.”

Okay, Grizz has this particular look he gets when he wants to say something but is considering what words to use. Allie sighs, waits, looks right at him because she _knows_.

“Allie, all we’ve been talking about lately is your love life. It’s not crazy that we’d do it without you there.”

“I…” She stops herself, because she definitely doesn’t have a defense for that, does she? Fuck. They _have_ been spending a bunch of time on it since the whole Dan thing happened, and she thinks they’re probably all just looking forward to her being over it. “Okay, well. If you had to guess, what was Harry’s reaction?”

Grizz’s face lights up and then he narrows his eyes like he’s not sure he should cheerlead this like he was clearly about to. 

She shrugs, flags down Nick and gestures for another round. 

“Are you gonna go for it?”

“I don’t know,” she says, laughing at herself. Then she almost wants to roll her eyes about the whole thing. “Probably not. But it’s flattering, right? Look at him.”

Grizz beams, nods, and says, “Also, he was grinning like he knew something we didn’t,” he says, answering her earlier question. She almost blushes. “So maybe you two talked about something none of the rest of us know about. If that’s the case, leave me out of it. You know I can’t lie to Becca.”

Allie laughs, thanks Nick when he drops off their drinks. It’s true - he’s awful at lying to anyone. It’s a virtue Allie thinks is admirable, really. And as much as she’d like to think Becca wouldn’t randomly question Grizz about Allie’s activities with Harry or anyone else, it’s just unrealistic to think there’s no chance. They, as a group, are relatively open about their relationships and escapades and whatever else. If they were talking about it in front of him and Becca asked who it was, he’d get all squirrely. 

Maybe, though, Allie could be a good enough liar for the both of them. Maybe no one has to know. That thing he said about Harry keeping secrets...God, that sounds hot, doesn’t it? Maybe, honestly, _he’s_ just hot. She thinks he could make anything hot, just because he looks the way he does and has that little grin thing he kept sending her way that night. God, she still...Look, those words he’d said in her ear were super hot. Hot enough to make her wonder if he’s all talk or if he can back it up. Hot enough that she thinks even if it’s a less than great performance, he’ll still be the most attractive person she’s ever been with. And maybe what she needs right now is that type of confidence boost, you know? 

Okay, so after three drinks, after Grizz walks her home, she’s lying on her bed with her phone in her hand and music playing and she’s thinking of Harry and it’s not even _like that_ , until she thinks maybe it should be, but then, god. Why just think of him when she could just fucking _go for it_? 

What’s stopping her? The fact that he’s Becca’s friend and they have history that happened before Allie even knew either of them? That sounds like their shit to work through that has nothing to do with her. There’s something to be said for wanting what she wants and not worrying about what anyone else thinks about it. It’d be a bit rich of Becca to say anything about it, right? She’s the one telling Allie to find someone hot to take her mind off things. Thinking about Harry is one of the only things that’s helped her not think about Dan. She thinks…

She thinks she should just fucking call him. 

What she does instead is message him _’Are you around? It’s Allie.’_

Which is just...She might as well just asked him if he wanted to fuck. They’re practically the same things. 

He replies almost immediately. _’I’m around. What’s up?’_

Okay, so he barely made it sound like anything other than what it is. 

She blames three drinks for the fact that she hits the call button. 

“Hey, Allie.”

Okay, fuck. He sounds good. Smug, but good. Really good. Like he knows exactly what she’s after, and he’s after it, too.

“Hi, Harry.” She hopes she sounds hot and not like, pathetic, or something. “What are you doing right now?”

“Reading from my contract law text,” he says, and she...she doesn’t know what to do with that. “Are you about to suggest something better?”

Allie bites her bottom lip. Fuck, he’s good at this already. And she really loves that she doesn’t have to bumble her way through an ask. He knows why she’s calling and there’s no mistaking that he’s down for it if she’s serious.

“Maybe I could come over?” she suggests, and he hums, which sounds sexy, too. “I could quiz you, or something.”

Harry laughs. He’s got a good laugh. “That sounds like fun.” 

Allie sits up, her head almost spinning with it, and reaches for her purse where she threw it on the bed. “What’s your address?”

He lets out this little laugh and then tells her. It almost sounds like he’s surprised she wants this _now_ , but she does. God, she really does. 

She’s really, really sure of it until she’s in the Uber and then starts second guessing everything. What is she doing? She’s not even wearing a cute outfit. She’s wearing the same thing she was wearing to hang out with Grizz. But god, maybe it doesn’t matter. Like, if a guy doesn’t want to sleep with her because of the clothes she has on her body when she shows up for that specific purpose, he can go to hell. Besides, she looks cute, she thinks. Her outfit is basic, but it’s not frumpy, or anything. And she’d pulled her hair back into a cute ponytail at the bar because it was bothering her and getting into her face. 

Maybe she should’ve had another sip of vodka before leaving the house. But no. She should be as sober as possible if she’s going to walk into his place and… She should be as sober as possible. The whole reason she’s going there is to get over someone else, and she wants to make that choice with a clear head. And she sort of...Is it stupid that she wants to remember as much of it as she can?

He’d asked her to text him when she arrived, so she does that. The building is this like, old factory, or something, split up into these skinny, three story units with tiny little yards. There’s a locked gate separating her and the sidewalk from this yard. There’s a bench and a table and…

Harry opens the door, walks out and smiles at her, stares right at her as he unlocks the gate and lets her in. “Hey,” he says, and she smiles and brushes her shoulder against him accidentally when she walks past towards the house. 

She’s looking around as she kicks off her shoes, hears him close the door behind them and...He definitely doesn’t have to touch her back on the way by, but he does. 

“Nice place,” she says, because it’s true. It’s really gorgeous. There are books spread out on a round table at the back of the kitchen, next to a pair of sliding doors that lead outside. There’s a small living area off to the right as well, a TV mounted on the wall. The kitchen is between all that, with a staircase just in front of her. 

“Thanks,” he says, and then pushes up his shirt sleeves. “It’s close to campus, so.”

“Mm.” She turns around to look at him, smiles when she sees him checking her out. “Obviously the only good thing about it.” He laughs, which she likes. A lot. “Sorry to interrupt your studying.” 

He stands in the kitchen, and Allie leans her elbows on the counter across from him. He just looks at her like that was maybe a goofy thing for her to say. 

“A welcome interruption,” he says, and she feels her cheeks heating up, fusses with her hair. He looks properly smug about her reaction. “Do you want a drink?”

She shakes her head, glances back at him. “No, thanks. I’m good.” 

“Okay.” He still pours her a glass of water, sets it on the counter in front of her. It seems like he’s waiting for her to say something, and she wonders if it’s weird that she isn’t talking. She’s not here to talk, really. “So.” He grins at her, his eyes sparkling with something she’s intrigued by. “You wanna quiz me now or later?”

Allie smiles all widely - she can’t help it, and looks at him from under her lashes. 

“Later,” she says, hoping it sounds hot. It must, because he pushes off the counter, rounds it and stands in front of her. She puts her hand on his chest because she wants to touch him. “This is...I changed my mind. About your offer.”

“Mm.” He glances down at her, then reaches up, pushes this lock of hair away from her face for it to just fall back again. “You’ve been thinking about it since then, have you?”

She blinks up at him. “Don’t pretend that’s not exactly what you wanted.”

He smirks at her, curves his hand around her hip and draws her closer. She likes it. “Definitely what I want.” 

_Fuck_.

Allie leans up to kiss him because she’s pretty sure he’s waiting for her to make most of these moves. Which is good. She likes that. It’s hot. It’s also really turning her on that she’s been here for like, under five minutes and they’re already this close. Already kissing. Because this doesn’t have to be more than this, and she likes that he gets that and isn’t being precious about her clearly just wanting to get what she came for. And then his tongue is sliding along hers, his hand up under her jaw, and she thinks maybe he’s getting a little antsy with just following her lead. 

So that’s what makes her pull away, reach for his hand and head for the stairs, which she’s assuming lead to his bedroom. They do. It’s on the third floor, though. It takes up the whole floor, has what looks like a massive bathroom, and a balcony, and this huge bed, and…

Harry’s hand at her stomach pushes her back until the backs of her legs are against the mattress and the only reason she doesn’t fall back is that his hands catch her hips. God, is everything about him hot? She’s ridiculously turned on just from like, a few minutes of kissing and then his voice in her ear on the stairs telling her, “Keep going,” when they’d gotten to the second floor. 

“You’re...really, really hot,” she tells him, and he laughs, gets this little smile on his face like he wasn’t expecting that. 

“Yeah?” he asks, and she almost wants to roll her eyes at him. “So are you.” She plays with one of the buttons on his shirt. He plays with the hem of hers. “Can I take this off?”

She likes that he’s asking, but he really doesn’t have to. She nods, and he pulls her shirt up over her head, takes a second to look at her, and then sets both hands on her face and kisses her again. It’s gentle, this sort of...he’s _teasing_ her, giving her these lingering kisses but not ever deepening them. Then he turns her head, kisses along her jaw, up to her ear, and says something almost unbearably sexy about what he wants to do with her. How he wants her to feel. He asks if that’s what she wants. She didn’t really have a plan - didn’t plot out the exact steps she’d take - so she nods, and then he’s lying her down, and when he’s kissing up the inside of her thigh and she sucks in a breath, he chuckles against her and their eyes meet and…

Yeah. Yeah, Harry’s the hottest guy she’s ever been with. 

Harry traces circles on her stomach afterward, when she’s fighting sleep and should get up because she definitely isn’t going to spend the night. He asks if he’s tickling her, and she turns her head to look at him, at his hair, messier than when she arrived, and his bare chest with the sheets pushed down to his waist. She tells him he’s not, and she thinks she should shy away from how intimate this feels. Because it’s supposed to be just sex. It _is_ just sex. 

“Hey, um…” Harry tilts his head at her like he thinks maybe he won’t like what she’s trying to say. But she doesn’t think he’ll care, really, or be surprised. She just needs to say it out loud. “This should stay between us.” The corner of his lips tick up and he switches to using his pinky against her stomach, just next to her belly button, and he looks down to watch the movement, too. Maybe she needs to be more specific. “Don’t tell Becca.”

He pauses, then stops, his hand flattening against her skin, pressing just gently in a way that feels kind of nice. He meets her eyes. “I won’t if you won’t.”

Something about that makes her laugh. “So you got a talking to as well?”

He hums, then grins, this self-satisfied thing Allie shouldn’t like, but does. “I think she thinks you’re more fragile than you are.”

Allie doesn't know how the hell to respond to that, honestly. She doesn’t necessarily disagree. 

But also; “I haven’t exactly been handling this breakup well.”

Harry takes a breath, leans away a little, presses back against the pillows as he watches her, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to figure her out, or something. 

“Were you supposed to?” he asks, and it sounds serious, and god, she wasn’t expecting that. “I don’t know the whole story, but it sounds like a pretty awful situation.”

She nods, turns onto her side. Harry surprises her again, pulls the sheet up over her shoulder as she watches him. How is he like, tender? 

“It was.”

Harry shrugs, rests his hand on her upper arm. “So feel your feelings.”

It’s heavy and _kind_ and honestly a thing no one has really just stated like that, and she likes it, and this is all too much. 

“You’re just glad me feeling my feelings also meant me getting into bed with you.”

He grins at her, wags his brows. “No complaints here, no.”

Allie smiles at him, takes a deep breath, and like...It’s time to go. Right? She got what she came for and now she can leave. She likes this, too, talking to him. But that’s not part of the arrangement, or whatever, and she doesn’t want to end up doing something ridiculous like spending the night. So she pushes back the sheets and ignores the look on his face like he might not want her to go yet. She swings her legs out and sets her feet onto the floor, and ugh. She hates this part. The ‘find your clothes in a stranger's house as they watch you’ part. 

She grabs her bra and turns around in search of her underwear, and then Harry’s holding them up for her, looking entirely too pleased with himself. She can’t help smiling back at him as she reaches for them. He grabs her wrist, pulls her in for a kiss. He should stop this. Really. But he sinks his hand into her hair - which was pulled from its ponytail when she was on her back and the elastic was bugging her head - and sweeps his tongue into her mouth like he just really wants to make it hard for her to leave. 

She leans away, pulls her underwear up her legs. “You’re pretty good at this,” she tells him, and it gets a laugh out of him. She pulls her bra on, then her tee shirt. He must be enjoying the view, because he’s just lying there watching her. She tosses his boxer briefs at him. “Walk me out.”

It’s a demand. He looks like he likes it. 

He takes her to the door just like that, bare chested and sleepy-looking, his lips red from their kissing. Allie pulls her hair up as she orders an Uber, and Harry cuts most of the lights on the first floor, so she assumes he’s going to go to bed as soon as she’s gone. 

“Let me know when you get home?” he asks, and she can’t help the way she smiles at him. 

“Okay,” she says, instead of something sassy about him being all gentle with her now. “Hey, um…” She pauses, and then his brow furrows like he wonders what she’s holding back. She meets his eyes. “Call me if you ever want me to return the favour.” His brow goes up. She refuses to blush. Instead, she shrugs one shoulder and reaches for the door handle. “If you ever need to get over a heartbreak, or whatever.”

He lets out a laugh, then nods, smiles at her and holds the door open, leaning his shoulder against it. “Can’t get your heart broken if you don’t fall in love.”

She thinks that’s...She looks at him and he’s wearing this little smile like maybe he doesn’t want her to know whether he’s serious or not. It works; she can’t tell. She smiles back. 

“I’ll have to remember that,” she tells him, and then puts her hand on his cheek and leans in to kiss him softly. “I’ll see you around.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and her Uber is waiting at the curb, and she looks back towards his place just in time to see the lights turn off. She leans back against the seat and, god, it’s probably really stupid that she actually _does_ feel better. Right?

… … …

The next time she sees him is a couple weeks later, when Becca arranges this hang in one of the better parks in the city, and Allie brings enough White Claw for everyone, and Grizz and Sam show up with pizza even though they’d said they were going to make sandwiches, and Harry brings chocolate chip cookies that he got from some bakery he’s raving about. 

Someone asks him how he’s doing gearing up towards the end of the semester. 

He sips his drink, catches Allie’s eye and says, “I’m good. Found a great study partner.”

She looks away, takes a bite of her food and ignores this stupid inside thing he’s doing that honestly feels risky. 

But she likes it, too, so that’s really something.

… … …

Becca sets her up on a date with a guy from her work, and Allie thinks it’s a bad idea but she goes anyway. He’s nice enough, sweet in a way that Allie thinks maybe a couple years ago she would’ve fallen for. There’s a stability he exudes that might be attractive to some people. But Allie’s...She’s kind of bored by the whole thing. He’s perfectly nice and kind and pays and is a good conversationalist. She just doesn’t feel any spark whatsoever. 

She thinks about Harry when she’s thinking about sparks, and then stops herself because it’s absolutely fucking stupid. Of course she’d felt sparks. They’d met up to have sex. 

At the end of the night, with two drinks and a decent plate of pasta in her belly, she almost considers inviting him over. Harry. But she laughs at herself when she’s inside her apartment alone, throws her phone away from her, watches something on Netflix and reminds herself that she likes her own company.

… … ...

She’s in the public library because she just really loves public libraries, okay? There’s something different about them from the campus ones. She thinks it’s the mix of people. There’s just something delightful about old people and kids being all in the same space. And the public library has this great coffee shop right across the street. Allie had found it once with Dan and she still likes it - it’s not tainted by memories of him, or whatever. She thinks maybe it would’ve felt that way a month ago, but it doesn’t now. 

It’s a Saturday, and she’s drinking coffee and studying, working on a paper and using the reference books they have here that she needs. She’s got her earbuds in and her eyes focused on her laptop. She doesn’t really think anything of someone sitting down at the table with her until they tug one of her books away and she glances up. 

It’s Harry, sitting there smiling at her like he thinks it’s cute, or something, that she was so stuck in her work that she didn’t notice it was him. 

“Hey,” he says after she’s tugged out her earbuds. “How are you?”

They haven’t seen each other since that day in the park, and they definitely haven’t spoken, either. The last texts she sent him were the night they hooked up. She knows this because she knows it, obviously, but also because last week when she almost did something stupid and went back for seconds, she went so far as opening their messages. 

“I’m well. You?” she asks. She really...She’s trying to finish this paper by the end of the weekend so she can focus on another assignment through the week. But she’s not going to be rude. And really, what she identifies this feeling as is...She’d just rather sit and talk with Harry than do work. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles at her, glances around. “Same as you, I think.” She hums, reaches for her coffee. He points towards her cup. “I love that place.”

Oh. 

“Me, too.” 

He lifts his bag up onto the table. “Mind if I join you? I have a ton of reading to do, and one of the books I need was checked out on campus.”

It’s really annoying, how much and how quickly she loves the idea of the two of them just sitting here quietly, working together. 

Allie nods. “Yeah. Of course.”

She really likes that they can be around one another and she doesn’t have to feel awkward about them having seen each other naked. She doesn’t know what it is about him or them that makes that a fact, but she appreciates it. Harry wanders off in search of his book, and Allie watches him for a moment before returning to her work. By the time he comes back, he’s got three texts in his hands and her coffee is done, and he asks if she’ll let him treat her to another. She shouldn’t have more caffeine without having more food, so he says he’ll pick something for her, unless she has a request. She wants to see what he’ll choose, so she tells him to surprise her. 

She has to work to not think of this as some pre-planned date. It’s obviously not that. 

When he returns, he slides the cup towards her, then passes her the paper bag in his hand. Inside, when she looks, there’s a lemon cranberry scone. She loves these - the amount of powdered sugar on top definitely a bonus. 

“Good choice.”

He smiles at her from across the table, leans back in his seat and cracks open one of his books. “Had a feeling.”

“Oh yeah?” she asks, tilting her chin up. “Why’s that?”

He gets this shit-eating grin on his face, says, “You drink that shitty grapefruit vodka. I figure you must like citrus.”

Her jaw drops, but her objection is mostly fake. “It’s not shitty. It’s my favourite.”

“Mm. You know, something can be shitty and you can like it anyway. Two things can be true.” She doesn’t know what to say to that. Why’s he making fun of her for it, then? 

“I don’t like regular vodka, and everything else tastes worse. Like, sorry. Am I supposed to like beer?” 

She _really_ likes his laugh. It’s bothering her how much she wants to hear it more. 

“So you haven’t had good vodka.” He sips his coffee. Allie wonders how it doesn’t burn his mouth. “I could treat you sometime.”

She rolls her eyes, reaches for her earbuds again, and gives him a look. “I bet you could,” she says, and hears him chuckling as she turns her music back on.

Allie works for another 45 minutes before she needs to stretch her legs and use the washroom. She doesn’t say anything to him when she gets up, and he doesn’t look up from his reading. She doesn’t think she has to like, ask him to watch her stuff. She’s also having a hard time understanding how he can just read like that with noise around him and no earbuds or music or anything to help him focus. Like, is he an X-Man, or something? God. She wishes she had that focus. 

She wanders through the stacks just to extend her break and also give her eyes some time away from her screen. There’s a little kid playing with a Hot Wheels car in the kids section, and Allie sees one of her favourite books from when she was little sitting at the end of one of the shelves. She picks it up, gives the first few pages a read because god, what a good serotonin boost. 

She watches Harry as she approaches. He’s making note of something in a literal notebook with a pen, and then he sets it down and turns the page of his text, slips his hand back into his hair above his right ear like he’s been doing this whole time. Not that she’s spent much time watching him - she’s been on a roll with her work and doesn’t want to break her concentration by staring at a _guy_. She’s just noticed some things. Like the fact that his sweater looks soft and he keeps pushing up the sleeves, and that he twists his pinky ring on his finger when he’s reading. 

Okay, so she’s noticed a lot about him in a short amount of time. She wonders if there’s anything he’s noticed about her. 

She’s being foolish.

She slides back into her seat and his eyes lift as she pops her earbuds back in. She smiles and he smiles back, this thing that looks quite genuine and attractive, and she wakes up her laptop again. 

An hour later, Harry’s standing, stretching his arms over his head. She looks up in time to see him rub gently at his eye. He walks off, then returns a few minutes later and sets both hands on the table, leans towards her. 

“Let’s grab lunch,” he says, and Allie feels herself smiling even though she feels mostly like she wants to say no. 

(That also, though, means that a part of her wants to say yes.) 

She glances at her screen. She’s made huge progress. She thinks, oddly, that him sitting here across from her helped her focus. Like she wasn’t working alone and had someone to keep her accountable and not be on her phone or distracted by people-watching. She can break for lunch, then head home and work a while longer and still hit her goals for the day with time to spare. 

“Are you asking or telling?” He rolls his eyes, but smiles at her and raises his brows like he wants to know she’ll say yes. “Well, where?”

“What do you feel like? There’s a really good Thai place. I can drive, then drop you at home after. If you want.” 

Allie chews her lip. Ugh. She loves Thai. She is absolutely convincing herself it’s the cuisine that has her nodding, standing and beginning to pack her things. As though if he’d suggested something else, she would’ve said no. 

Honestly, Harry is good company. He’s a good driver, and he has a nice car he lets her make fun of. The restaurant _is_ good, and he shares his Thai iced tea with her. He’s nice to the servers and he laughs at her jokes. They talk a little about Becca, and he admits he was worried to come here for law school because he’d have to meet new people all over again. He says something about how he likes all Becca’s friends, and she ignores the way he’s clearly talking about _her_ and instead makes a potentially shitty joke about how yeah, he and Becca obviously have similar taste. He doesn’t even get offended. They split the bill, though she can tell he means it when he says he’s got it. She just feels weird. This isn’t a _date_. They’re...they’re friends, or something. 

When he drops her off at home, he leans his arm on the steering wheel and turns to her. 

“This was fun,” he says, as if it _is_ a date, and Allie can only look at him and wait for anything else he’s going to say. “I like spending time with you.”

She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it, laughs and pushes her hair back. “Yeah. I...I had a nice day.” They didn’t _plan_ this. Why are they acting like weird teenagers who don’t know how to just say goodnight? It’s not even night time. What is she doing? “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again sometime.”

Harry’s smile falters just a touch, enough to make her feel badly, but then he slips on this look she thinks is at least somewhat fake. 

“Yeah,” he says, and she...she worries she’s just hurt his feelings, or something. But that’s weird. This was _not a date_. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Allie gets out of the car before she does something stupid like apologize for making it sound like it’s preposterous that they enjoy each others’ company and it doesn’t make sense for them to actually _talk_ about how this felt. 

It felt like a date. 

… … …

She texts him because she doesn't want to feel like an asshole, and she _does_ like him, and despite the fact that she was really thinking she wanted to be guy-free for a while, there’s also Harry, too, you know? She wasn’t expecting him, but here he is. And it’s not a relationship, but there’s enough there that she doesn’t want to pretend there isn’t. Does that make sense? 

It’s Wednesday, so it’s been long enough since they saw each other that she won’t come off as desperate. She just tells him she feels like she completed a marathon, finished her third paper in two weeks and sends a cute emoji, asks how he’s doing. He replies that he’s got a test in one of his hardest classes and he’s been studying all week. He asks what she’s up to. She’s tempted to say it’s nothing and ask if he wants to hang out. 

So that’s what she does. 

She asks him if he wants to watch a movie with her, and he asks what snacks he can bring. She’s got that covered - has peanut M&M’s and pretzels - so she tells him just to bring himself. It’s raining, and he looks pretty hot as he runs to the door. She watches him sprint from his car where she told him she could park it in the driveway. She’s got to let him in the locked main door so they can head upstairs. 

“Hey,” he says, and wipes some raindrops off his cheek. He looks...He always looks good - she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him and not liked the look of him - but this is different. Like, he’s at her house. They can’t pretend anymore that there’s nothing going on. 

So when he’s inside her place, slipping his shoes off and pulling a bottle of what looks like some really fancy vodka out of the bag he was carrying…

“I’m sorry I made it sound like I didn’t want to hang out again,” she tells him, and he freezes, squints at her like she doesn’t have to apologize. “I did.”

He steps closer. She stays still. “Obviously.” Ugh. Why is he so _smug_? He holds up the bottle. “You down?”

Allie tilts her head. She’s got a class at 11am and she really doesn’t want to be exhausted or hungover. 

“Is this some fancy vodka only someone with a trust fund can afford?” she asks, grinning, and he nods. Which is so stupid, but she likes that, too. She pulls down two glasses and reaches into the fridge for something to mix with but Harry sighs and shakes his head. 

“You don’t need it.” She gives him a look, but decides to trust him, anyway. He grabs some ice, which makes a pleasant clinking sound when he drops it in the glasses. He also laughs when she tosses some M&Ms into her mouth. She thinks that’s a pleasant sound, too. He pours a splash in each glass, hands one to her, and says, “Cheers.”

She watches him watching her as she takes a sip. _Oh_. It’s _good_. She doesn’t want to let on that he was right, so she doesn’t react at all, but his grin just spreads as he watches her, and then his brow goes up. 

“It’s okay.”

Harry lets out a laugh and puts his arm around her shoulder. “Okay. Hard to please.”

Allie feels her cheeks flushing, and is glad he’s not looking at her now. He, of all people, knows it’s...She’s just not _that_ hard to please. He’d done a pretty good job of it. 

“So here’s the awkward bit where I tell you to choose between sitting on this tiny couch, or on my bed,” she says, pointing to the little loveseat she got at Ikea when she moved in and can barely seat her and Becca comfortably. 

Harry blinks slowly and seems to consider his answer. “I’m good with whatever.”

She likes that response. She gestures to the bed - it’s just more comfortable - and hits the lightswitch in the living area to turn the overhead lights off. The back of the apartment, where her bed is, is where she’s invested the most to make it look the way she wants. Part of that is these pretty gold lamps she got from an Etsy shop. They have these old-timey bulbs in them and make the room glow just the way she likes. Harry eyes her as she gets onto one side of the bed and reaches for her laptop. Then he gets onto the other side and leans back against her pillows. 

This is definitely a date. If she hadn’t mentioned that before. It’s _definitely_ a date. 

Allie presses her shoulder into his and just barely catches his little smile before he sips his drink again. 

She picks the movie, but he doesn't object. It’s some Netflix original she’s heard good things about and he says he hasn’t seen. They sip their drinks and watch the thing and eat peanut M&Ms out of this little clear dish and Allie feels his body heat all along one side of her until he gets up to refill their glasses. She pauses the movie though he says she doesn’t have to, and then when he comes back, she’s definitely just staring at him. 

“You look really pretty in this light,” he tells her, and she’s glad she catches herself before saying what first comes to mind, which is _so do you_.

What she says instead is, “That was the whole plan.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, sitting back down next to her. “Get me over here and seduce me with your basic snacks and your good lighting?”

Okay, so she was definitely talking about how looking pretty was the plan when she bought these lamps, but she’s not going to say that _now_. 

This thing he’s said was definitely not her plan, but maybe it should’ve been. 

“Is it working?” she asks, then raises her glass to her lips, her eyes locked with his. She watches his tongue slide over his teeth a little and...oh god. 

“So far, yeah.” 

She wants to kiss him. She presses play on the movie instead. 

After she’s done her second drink and has set the glass on her bedside table, Harry does the same, then watches her face as he gently closes her laptop. It’s like he wants to know if he’s got her permission. Honestly, she’s been distracted since they sat down and she’d like to tell him as much, but she doesn’t want to sound desperate or whatever. 

He leans over to kiss her and she turns towards him so easily it should scare her. 

Harry spends the night in her bed, wakes up around 8am to head home. She has to walk him out to lock the door behind him, but she just pulls on her longest sweatshirt and follows him down the stairs. He definitely checks her out. He also kisses her at the door, says something about seeing her soon. She can’t help it if she’s distracted by the way his thumb is rubbing against her earlobe. 

… … …

They hook up again after she goes out with Becca and Helena on Friday night. He went out with law school friends, and they’re both just shy of drunk when she shows up at his place and he presses her against the wall next to his front door, tells her something hot about how she looks in her ‘little outfit’.

And then they sleep together after she spends way too much time studying and wants to blow off some steam and tells him exactly that. He jokingly says, “Are you using me?” as he walks past her at the front door to her house, and laughs when she says, “What if I am?”

Honestly, she was starting to worry. But then he pulls her onto his lap when he’s sitting at the edge of her bed, says she can use him as much as she wants as long as this is how, and gets his hands up under her shirt. So like. It’s fine. 

… … …

She and Becca had made plans to go out for brunch, but then Becca said she wanted to save some cash and asked if they could just make something instead. Allie’s always down for culinary misadventures with her best friend. This time, it’s just pancakes and bacon and eggs, so it’s pretty un-fuck-up-able, and Allie brews some coffee and puts on some music and…

“What’s that?” Becca asks, squinting, and then reaching for the bottle of vodka Allie’s left on the counter next to her olive oil and balsamic. Becca turns to her, tilts her head. “I only know one person with taste this rich.”

Allie figures she has two choices here. She could lie, say it was a gift, or something, or she could tell the truth. Or, she could say that she and Harry watched a movie and she told him to put his money where his mouth was if he was going to rag on her alcohol choices, and he brought that over. 

What she does instead is shrug her shoulder, which she knows fully gives her away. 

“Allie,” Becca breathes, pinching the bridge of her nose like Allie’s done something truly awful. 

“It’s not a big deal.” 

That feels like a lie, too. 

“You don’t know him,” Becca says gently, shaking her head. “He’s great, and fun, and a good time, but he’s got baggage.” 

“And I don’t?” Allie laughs, and then flips the pancake in the pan so it won’t burn. 

“He’s got a bad temper and a foul mouth,” Becca continues. Allie’s never seen either of those traits on display. Not really. “Harry’s all charm and good first impressions, but…I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not going to get hurt,” she says, though she can’t possibly be sure of that, can she? “We’ve hung out a couple times.” Becca scoffs like that’s a messed up way of putting it. “And, okay, yeah, we slept together.”

Becca seems to realize something, then, and narrows her eyes questioningly. “Is this why you seem to be in such a better place lately?”

Allie rolls her eyes, flicks the burner off and passes the plate to Becca maybe a little too aggressively. “No,” she insists. “Believe it or not, I didn’t need to just sleep with some random guy to feel better about myself.”

“Okay, whoa.” Becca holds up a hand. “That’s not what I was saying, and I think you know that, but let’s make that clear right now.” Allie pauses, but nods her head. She wants to turn around and reach for the syrup from the fridge, but she also wants to be present for this conversation. 

“There’s nothing dramatic going on with me and Harry.” She thinks about that first night at his house, and knows it’s poetic and telling and fucked up to repeat his words, but she does it anyway. “Can’t get your heart broken if you don’t fall in love.” 

Becca’s smile widens and she nods and heads for the tiny, two person table Allie has at the front window. She seems to be satisfied with that response and Allie’s suggestion there that she doesn’t have feelings for him.

Allie shouldn’t be relieved. She shouldn’t be doubting the thing she has going on with Harry. It’s barely a thing, anyway. They’ve slept together a few times, had a couple nice moments, and that’s all it is. She doesn’t need Becca’s warning or whatever that was making her feel like he’s not boyfriend material, or something, because she’s not trying to make him her boyfriend. It’s irrelevant. 

Becca proceeds, anyway, to tell Allie a story about Harry getting into a very public fight with the town’s drug dealer during their senior year, and it makes Allie really fucking uncomfortable. Not only because she hates fighting and physical altercations and they genuinely scare her, but because it feels messed up to be hearing about the guy he was when he was 18. As if Allie or Becca are the same people they were at 18. As if they haven’t broken their own bad habits or done any self improvement. But if she says any of that, she’ll sound like she’s defending him, which isn’t a thing she really needs to do, right? 

Besides, Becca does definitely know him better than Allie does. Maybe she should take some of this advice to heart, right? 

… … …

Harry asks her if she wants to get together, and she’s got her head buried in her books so she asks for a raincheck. He persists, though, and gently tells her she needs to eat, right? She _is_ hungry, but she doesn’t want to leave her place or lose a bunch of time, so she invites him over and he says he’ll bring dinner. He shows up with this salad from her favourite place downtown, a grapefruit San Pallegrino, and a chocolate brownie. 

Allie kisses him in her kitchen and says thank you, and he just replies, “No problem,” in this soft voice she wants to ignore because it sounds so fucking sweet and she’s still trying to convince herself that this is just a series of hookups. 

He sits behind her on the sofa as she sits on the floor. He’s reading from a book for _fun_ , which she teases him about, and she really, really appreciates that he can just hang out and not demand her attention. She likes that he takes her seriously when she says she’s got work to do. Dan always used to try to distract her. She thinks Harry gets it because he’s also hustling to make excellent grades and, from what she’s seen, also doesn’t like procrastinating and having to rush through things. He knows she’s starting her MFA in September but still wants her GPA to be kind of outstanding, you know? 

Allie shares her brownie with him. She does not let herself focus too long on the way he looks as he licks chocolate from the pad of his thumb. 

… … …

She’s getting dressed one morning after spending the night at his place because it was late when she got here and then she got really tired after they had sex. She’d asked if she could stay, and he’d said yes and pulled her close to him. She hates pulling on last night’s clothes - especially because they were clothes she put on for going out and she will definitely be clearly doing the walk of shame wearing them back home this morning. It’s not anything particularly revealing, but it’s not what she normally wears. Not that any stranger who has never seen her before would know that. What the fuck is she talking about? Where is her other sock?

“Hey,” he says, and wraps his hand gently around her elbow, leans up on his hand and looks at her, all cute and sleepy. Ugh. Why does he have to look like that? “Let’s get breakfast.”

She _feels_ the face she makes. She watches the way his expression changes as he’s looking at her. Like he’s bothered this is her reaction. 

Look, it’s not odd for them to get food. They’ve obviously done it before. She’s teased him that he seems to like feeding her. The lines are just getting blurred between _this_ , this tender, borderline _couple-y_ thing he’s projecting right now, and them falling into bed together once a week, or whatever. 

“I’m not dressed for breakfast,” she says instead, hoping it sounds hot, leaning towards him for a kiss. He lets her. Smiles, even. 

But then he says, “You can borrow something,” and puts his hand on her waist over her top, his eyes all soft, and she…

“Harry.” She sits down, because _fuck_ , now they’re going to have to _talk_ about this. “I thought you didn’t date.” 

His brow furrows, and he tilts his head, confused. “What?”

She really doesn’t want to do this right now. She’s trying not to be annoyed that she has to. 

“Becca said you don’t really do relationships,” she says, instead of throwing his words back at him. The way she’d thrown them towards Becca to get her friend off her case. She feels like an asshole. 

Harry’s face hardens, and he leans back against his pillows. No, that’s not it. More accurately, he leans away from her. 

“Becca doesn’t know everything about me,” he says, and Allie tilts her chin down, embarrassed. She thinks she’s hurt his feelings, which really isn’t what she wanted to do. “She doesn’t know the details of every relationship I’ve had since high school.” 

Shit. Shit, the way he said that is really...He’s making it very clear that it’s been years since Becca really knew a bunch about him other than what he wanted her to know. Allie feels slightly foolish for needing him to spell that out for her before she really got it. Like, she knows from context clues that Becca’s depiction of Allie hasn’t been entirely accurate. Like the way Harry’d said he thinks Becca thinks she’s made of glass, or whatever it was he said. 

Before she can apologize, he adds, “It’s kind of shitty that you believe her.” 

She moves closer, rests on her knees next to him, sets her hand on his chest. He’s still just watching her. 

“You’re right,” she admits, and he doesn’t react. “I’m sorry. I...I don’t really know you, either.”

His lips twitch, this almost sad little smile blooming there. “I mean, you know more than most people.” Allie’s brow furrows. That can’t be true. He shrugs. “I like talking to you.” 

It’s so simple, so straightforward, and Allie likes it. A lot. _A lot_. She really, really hopes this isn’t just her stupid ego feeling flattered that _she’s_ the one he likes to talk to, that she’s the one he seems to be treating differently than other girls. The whole nature of this conversation is him saying that she really doesn’t know that at all. 

She lets the corner of her mouth tick up, wants to kiss him, but says, instead, “I’ll warn you, I always get a side of French toast and I don’t share.”

He lets out a laugh, leans up and pushes his hand into her hair before he kisses her. She can feel his smile against her lips. Allie doesn’t know how his friends can see him as something so different from who he seems to actually be. She wonders if that’s on purpose. 

She wears a sweatshirt from the school where he did his undergrad, sits across from him at this place that makes their French toast with challah, and presses her ankle against his under the table as she lets him pay. 

… … …

She is currently standing between him and this guy who’s mouthing off, gesturing towards Harry with the hand holding his beer bottle, and Harry’s shouting back at him, and Allie’s got her hands on Harry’s chest and she’s looking at his face when she says his name as firmly as she can. He finally looks down at her, his jaw all tense, and lets her shove him towards the door. He grabs her hand and pulls her through the bar and out onto the sidewalk, but then lets go so he can push his hand through her hair as he takes deep breaths. 

This was supposed to be a dumb, fun night before they all have to get serious about studying for finals. A bunch of them came out to this place Grizz recommended. Allie wishes they’d just gone to her bar. It’s less crowded and cheaper and has better lighting. And if they’d gone there, Harry wouldn’t have gotten into a shoving match with some guy who’d said something gross about Becca back there. 

Allie doesn’t know what the fuck to say to him. She’s also three drinks deep and just wants to say whatever comes to mind, which is that she can’t fucking stand fighting, and she’s pissed at him for starting shit with some drunk idiot and making her have to step in. She didn’t _have_ to do that. Grizz was right there, too. Grizz is the one who really broke it up. Allie just...She’s protective, or something. Actually, the truth is, she thought maybe Harry’d listen to her. He did. Sort of. 

She watches him rub his fingers across his forehead like he knows he’s done something messed up, and then when he looks at her, he appears to be at least a little ashamed. 

“Are you okay?” he asks her, which is...He seems genuinely concerned, but she wasn’t the one _fighting_ Like, no one swung at anyone, but that doesn’t matter. She nods, but she knows her hands are shaking. Harry looks her up and down and then lets out a breath. “Sorry. I just…”

She cuts him off. Not that she doesn’t appreciate the apology, but she honestly doesn’t want to hear him make any weird justifications for this shit. 

“I really hate physical conflict,” she tells him, and he tilts his head like he’s maybe hearing in her voice that despite the fact that she nodded when he asked, she’s rattled and maybe not fully okay. “Like, it makes me really uncomfortable.”

Harry steps closer, reaches for her hip. She doesn’t stop him. She also can’t stand that it soothes her. Grounds her. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It sounds like he means it. 

And they’ve never done this anywhere that their friends might see them acting like they’re _together_. She doesn’t think they’re together. Not officially. Not...They haven’t talked about that. She thinks she knows what he wants. She thought she knew what she wanted, too. She just...She isn’t going to be with someone who makes her feel unsafe. It’s fucked up to think of it that way, but that’s how she’s feeling right now. She remembers what Becca had said about him having a smart mouth and a short temper. She’s been trying not to take everything Becca’s shared at full value, not since last weekend when Harry’d called her out on it - rightfully, as well - but now she’s witnessed it for herself, and she really doesn’t like that.

“Here’s a secret,” she says, and she sounds _mad_ , she realizes, which is definitely just a result of her nerves being frayed. But also wanting to impart on him how serious she is about this. “I don’t know a single woman in the world who’s ever felt safer when men are fighting near her.” Harry looks at her a second, then nods almost imperceptibly. “So whatever you think you were doing to like, protect her, or whatever, that’s not the result you get when you pull shit like that.”

His other hand comes up to rest on her hip, and he nods more firmly. “Okay,” he says, and god, in just one word she can tell he’s really heard her. Then his hand moves up onto her cheek before he pushes her hair back and really looks at her again. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Allie shakes her head, and maybe she’s being stubborn, but this was supposed to be a fun night out, and she’s not going to let Harry’s temper ruin that for her. She thinks he owes her, too. So she gives him what she thinks is a bit of a devious look.

“No,” she says, and lets her fingertips slip beneath his shirt at the back of his hip. She should be more careful. Any one of their friends could come outside and see them. But she thinks that’s also the moment she realizes she doesn’t give a fuck, either. “Come inside and dance with me.” Harry lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head. She presses her fingers into his skin and he steps closer. She likes that. She likes how easily she can make him move like that. Is that messed up? “You owe me at least that.”

His brow goes up. “At least?” he asks, with some intrigue. She just nods, and he looks like he wants her, wets his bottom lip, and then follows her back inside. 

He and Becca talk, too, their heads bent together and Becca clearly pissed and gesturing harshly at him. Allie thinks it’s good and meaningful and important that he has both of them telling him this shit is unacceptable. He seems to be getting the message. Then he buys everyone a round and apologizes to them all, seems to mean it. His hand brushes her hip as they all raise their glasses. She pushes her hip against him to get him to stop, but he’s just smirking like he’s _trying_ to tease her. 

When she and Becca go to the bathroom together, holding hands like they usually do, Becca shakes her head and says, “See? He’s too hot headed for his own good.” 

Allie nods, but doesn’t want to get into it. Not while waiting in line to pee, and not really at all. She doesn’t think this is like, an irredeemable character flaw, or whatever. It’s just that she thinks it’s weird that Becca seems to want to keep convincing Allie not to be with him, or whatever. And she knows that Becca’s talked to Harry about her and this thing between them, too. She doesn’t know what was said. She’s positive he’d tell her if she asked him. Maybe she will. 

They close down the bar. Not all of them. Grizz and Becca leave around 1:30, and then Helena and Luke leave when last call is announced. When everyone’s gone, Harry finally lets her pull him out onto the dance floor. It’s kind of dumb that he doesn’t like dancing, because he’s surprisingly okay at it. She tells him this, and he teases her for being ‘all arms’ when she’s dancing. She’s buzzed enough not to care. She actually loses track of time, and then the music is cutting off and Harry’s laughing at the pout on her face as the lights come up. 

He holds her hand again as they leave, asks her if she wants to go to his place or hers. Like it’s just a given that they’re spending the night together. She likes that he knows that, too. 

They walk back to hers. It’s about 20 minutes and it’s warm enough finally that she isn’t cold. And Harry keeps his arm around her anyway, and it’s fucking dumb, but she also thinks the way he keeps laughing and calling her cute warms her up, too. When they’re waiting at a light, she tips her head back and tells him to kiss her, and then they get carried away, his hands on her face and his tongue against hers. It’s hot. Then when they’re inside her place, he gets her shirt off her in her kitchen as soon as the door’s closed. 

When she’s lying against him, her skin tacky with sweat and his fingers playing with her hair, she just…

She _likes_ him.

He kisses her when she tells him as much. 

… … …

She doesn’t see him or anyone else during the two weeks leading up to finals, or during the week in which all her freaking exams happened to be scheduled because life is just cruel that way. She and Harry’d planned a movie night on Thursday, but then he’d told her he really could use the time for studying, and would she be too upset if they rescheduled? She understood completely, spent another hour and a half studying, herself, before letting herself enjoy a small break, too. She used the time to talk to her sister and, okay, she’ll admit it, have a few sips of that fancy vodka Harry gave her. 

Two days after her last exam, Harry texts her that he just wrote his last one, and he thinks he bombed but he’s so exhausted he doesn't even care and is instead just thankful to be done. Allie has a hard time actually believing that, knowing how seriously he takes school. But that’s not the point. She invites him over because she’s home and doing nothing, and decides to make quesadillas for them. When he arrives, he looks so happy to see her that honestly it makes her feel...Makes her feel something. 

Allie wonders if they should define this relationship. She also wonders if it would be insulting to start that conversation, because despite the fact they’ve never talked about it, it’s pretty fucking obvious, isn’t it? 

He stays over, and they sleep until 11am and then he showers at her place for the first time and she realizes he brought a change of clothes with him when he pulls them from the bag she truly hadn’t paid much attention to yesterday. She’s trying not to feel weird about this obviously being the longest stretch of time they’ve spent together in terms of consecutive hours. 

“A bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” she asks, and he gets all distracted when she gets out of bed, because he’s definitely the only one wearing clothes.

“Had a feeling it’d be okay,” he says, rolling his eyes. Allie leans up and kisses him on her way to the shower and asks if he wants to order them breakfast. 

Harry doesn’t leave for two days. 

Okay, that’s not totally true. They go to his place to get him some more clothes, drive over late in the evening and he lets her pick out what to bring back. They almost get distracted or caught up or whatever when he presses her back against his bed and says something about how he missed her when they were both busy. Allie pushes him away because she’s seriously worried she’s going to take those words to mean more than they do. He’s just stating a fact, right? 

She missed him, too. He kisses her really gently when she tells him that. She doesn’t want to name the feeling she has, because she’s really trying not to blow anything out of proportion.

… … …

A bunch of them get together for another pseudo picnic. They have such a ridiculous assortment of food it almost makes her laugh. There’s a charcuterie board Grizz put together, but also Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. There’s the fruit salad Allie threw into a bowl, but also a family sized bag of Skittles, and a 12 pack of cheap beer. Whatever. It’s fun. 

Harry didn’t come. Well, he wasn’t invited. No, not that he wasn’t invited. It’s just that it’s her, and Helena, and Grizz, and Becca, and Allie is fully capable of doing things without inviting the guy she’s seeing. 

She doesn't think it’s going to come up at all, honesty, but then Grizz says, “You’re one to talk. You’re dating Harry,” when she teases him for something or another to do with his relationship with Sam. 

“I’m…” She certainly can’t deny it. Can she? No. No, she can’t. She can tell by the way they’re all looking at her. “So?”

Fuck. 

Grizz just grins at her, and Becca rolls her eyes, and Helena looks confused. 

“Why?” Helena asks, and Allie is just sick of everyone being shitty about him. 

“I like him, and he’s nice to me, and he’s smart and fun to be around.” It honestly feels really freaking simple. 

“He seems like such a grumpy asshole,” Helena says, reaches for a piece of pineapple, and Allie feels herself getting mad. Maybe it’s not fair. And her first instinct is to talk about how Luke is absolutely an asshole at least half the time, but she figures that’s probably not productive, either. 

“Well, he’s not,” she says, and it comes out terse and clipped, like it’s not up for debate. Other than Becca, Allie definitely knows him best. God, she thinks she actually knows him better. Not that she’s going to say that. She thinks Becca would be insulted. 

“I think,” Becca says gently, giving both Grizz and Helena glances. Grizz looks innocent. Is innocent. He hasn’t said anything shitty. He likes Harry, too, and she knows that. “I think we all thought that after Dan, you might pick someone a little...Different.” Allie narrows her eyes. What does _that_ mean? “And I say this with literal years worth of love for Harry.”

She then laughs, shakes her head and reaches for some Cheetos. “Harry’s nothing like Dan. My god.” No one says anything. Good. She’s done with this conversation. “Anyway, why don’t you save all this weird, protective energy for someone who needs it.” Allie glances at Becca and smiles sweetly. “Didn’t that girl you hooked up with last weekend forget to tell you she had a boyfriend?”

They move on after that.

She asks Harry if he wants to grab coffee after, when she’s walking home with her blanket draped over her arm and her sunglasses on. He says he’s got a headache so he wants to stay in, but that he’d be down for a movie and an Americano if she’s feeling generous. 

She is. She’s feeling...She wants to see him and make sure he’s okay - he’s told her before he’s gotten migraines since he was like, 12 - and to bring him something she thinks might help. They cuddle up on his sofa with the lights off and the curtains drawn shut, and watch TV with the brightness and the volume both turned way down.

She cares about him.

… … …

Allie’s got a sweet summer gig as a TA because she found a loophole that let her enrol in her program for the summer semester and take a single class - funded - so she could qualify for this kind of opportunity. The class doesn’t start for a couple weeks, so she picks up a couple gigs with this temp agency she worked with last summer. It’s simple office admin shit that she can’t stand, but the pay is decent and people more or less leave her alone because no one wants to take advantage of someone who’s only filling in for a few days. 

Harry meets her on a Thursday afternoon outside this insurance office she’s been working at while the receptionist is on holiday. They’d planned this, so it’s not surprising, necessarily. It’s just nice to see him standing there in his jeans and tee shirt, sunglasses over his eyes. He puts his arm around her and lets her steal sips of his iced coffee. 

“Hey, um. I have a crazy idea.”

Allie kinks her brow. The last time he said those words, it was...Well, it was super satisfying for her. That’s all she’s saying, okay? And they’re halfway to her place, and he’s already made two comments on this dress she’s wearing, and it’s not crazy of her to think he’s talking about sex. But then he looks almost shy, which is remarkably cute on him.

“I was thinking of going home for the weekend,” he says, and Allie thinks she knows what’s coming, but wants him to say it. He’s _nervous_. “Why don’t you come with me?”

The thing that surprises her is that she doesn’t feel panic, or fear, or anything else negative. She thinks he looks sweet, and like he really wants her to say yes, and she...It probably _is_ crazy, right? They’ve never even talked about what this relationship is. But it’s been...God, it’s been too long at this point to not take it seriously. Despite what anyone else might want to tell her, she thinks they have a good thing going here. She didn’t expect this so soon, but she also just really thinks there’s something amazing about the way he isn’t afraid to just _say_ things. 

“One condition,” she tells him, and he smiles like he’s relieved, slips his fingers between hers. 

“What’s that?”

“You introduce me as your girlfriend.” 

Why in the hell does she feel so nervous as soon as it’s left her mouth? Harry stops on the sidewalk, pulls her to him, and he’s smiling at her, and he curves his hand over the side of her neck before he leans down to kiss her. 

“Deal,” he says quietly, and yeah, she wishes they were home right now. But this is so nice, too. Just walking with him in public where he’s clearly not ashamed or embarrassed to be with her - not that he ever has been - and seemingly really pleased that she’s defined what they are. 

“Yeah?” she asks, and he nods, then gives her that look she’s super familiar with by now. 

They go to her place. She has to try very hard to ignore the way he’s looking at her, or she’ll definitely read too much into it. 

… … ...

The drive is nice. A couple hours in Harry’s car with the windows down and a frappe he makes fun of her for that they got at that place by the library on their way out of town. She asks him what she should expect, and is mostly teasing with the nature of her questions. Like when she asks if she’ll be allowed to enter the west wing of his fancy, massive estate. Or when she asks if it’s a gated community and she’ll be asked to close her eyes as he enters the code to be let in. Or if he has a butler named Jeeves. 

She’s being stupid, but she likes making him laugh. Eventually, he starts going along with it, too. He says the west wing’s fair game, but she should watch her mouth around the silver service because it gets offended easily. 

She keeps adding songs to the queue in his Spotify and he complains that it’s going to mess up the algorithm or whatever and he’ll start getting weird recommendations. Allie rolls her eyes, though, because their taste isn’t all that different anyway. 

Harry navigates them through the main part of his hometown just because she asks him to. He says they definitely don’t have to drive through, but she wants to. It’s cute. Quaint. Like, when people talk about quaint New England towns, this is what they mean. There’s a park with a gazebo right in the middle of town, and a church with a high steeple, and a bunch of shops along a main street. It’s seriously adorable. He tells her it’s boring as fuck and he’s glad to be out. She understands that. She grew up in a sleepy suburb of New York because both of her parents worked in the city. She doesn’t think that was much better. 

When he pulls the car into the driveway of this seriously gorgeous house, she also wonders how he could’ve let her tease him the way she did when his literal, actual house looks like _this_. Like, it’s massive, and beautiful, and there’s a manicured lawn and flower beds and an expensive car parked in the drive beside the garage. 

All Becca’s previous talking about how Harry grew up didn’t really prepare her for this. 

As they’re getting out of the car and he’s grabbing their bags from the front, a woman in high waisted jeans and a crisp button down and literal pearls walks out from the side door with a smile on her face, her heels clicking on the ground. 

“Hey mom,” he says, sounding a little boyish. Allie tries not to feel awkward or nervous as she watches them hug, his arms going around his mother pretty gently. His mom looks over his shoulder and gives Allie a smile. “This is Allie.” Allie smiles politely, and Harry adds, “My girlfriend.”

Yes, good. Their deal. Right. 

“Hi,” Allie says, extending her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for having me.”

Cassandra had told her to be polite and say thank you off the bat. She hopes that was good advice. 

Mrs. Bingham shakes her hand, says, “I’m Karen. I’m glad you could join us.” 

Everything feels measured, maybe slightly too careful, but Allie smiles and then watches Harry pick up their bags again, and his mom loops her arm through his and they start towards the house. Allie follows, because she figures it’d be fucking weird to stand in the driveway. 

When she steps into the house and slips her shoes off, the hardwood is cool under her feet and Harry gives her a look, smiles like he’s trying to apologize, or something, and his mom leads them into the kitchen. On the kitchen island, there’s a bouquet of mixed flowers, a few mugs, and a small dish of peanut M&Ms. 

“Harry mentioned they’re your favourite,” Karen says when she notices Allie looking.

Why does this feel like the sweetest thing in the world? What is happening?

“That’s so kind. Thank you,” she says, and Harry leans back against one of the counters, looks at her like he knows exactly what’s going through her mind. He knows she likes it when people are thoughtful - that it’s one of her favourite feelings. 

“Coffee?” Karen asks, and begins filling mugs before anyone’s answered. “Harry can give you the tour, then we can sit and get to know each other better.”

Allie nods, takes the cup Harry slides her way and says, “I’d love that.” 

She carries her coffee cup and follows Harry through the house to the stairs, and he’s carrying their bags and when they step into his bedroom, it feels like she’s able to breathe easier. He sets their bags down at the foot of the bed as she glances around, and he’s just watching her when she takes a sip of her coffee. 

“You okay?”

She nods. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but your mom is really nice?”

They’ve talked about their families. She knows he and his mom are close. They’re close now. They had their issues when he was in high school, but did some pretty extensive counselling after his dad passed away. Allie can’t honestly remember when she collected all these facts about him, but she’s got them, and she knows he’s got a bunch about her, too. She’s shared about her family and her sister and her upbringing. 

“Also, personally offended that your childhood bedroom is bigger than my entire literal apartment,” she says, and Harry laughs and puts his arm around her shoulders to pull her against him. “Okay, so let’s do this tour. I’m guessing six bedrooms, seven baths.”

He shakes his head. “Five and six.”

“Dammit.” 

He laughs again, nods towards the door. Harry walks her through the upstairs hallways, though it’s kind of boring, honestly. He says he doesn’t know where his sister is, but she’ll be around at some point. The ground floor of the house features a formal dining room, a living room, a study, a sitting room with a huge fireplace, and this big, white eat-in kitchen. 

She doesn’t say anything about it, really. She doesn’t want him to feel weird about how he grew up. And like, she didn’t grow up in a shack, or anything; her parents’ house is gorgeous. But it’s not this. 

The thing she does tell him, though, is that the place feels homey and comfortable. Inviting. There’s a warmth to it, and she doesn’t know if that’s because it feels like it was decorated by whoever does all those Nancy Meyers movies, or something else. She likes it, though. 

They end up on the back patio, at this patio set with Karen apologizing in advance that she’s having Katherine bring home dinner from a restaurant in town. She explains she’d planned to cook, but she got caught up at work and barely left with enough time to be home when they arrived. Allie waves off the worry, says she isn’t picky, says Harry knows she’ll eat pretty much anything. He jumps in with an anecdote about Allie’s willingness to try whatever’s put in front of her, and that he’s never seen her try something she didn’t like. 

About an hour into their chatting - in which Karen has asked her about her studies and her family and herself, but all in a way that doesn’t feel like she’s being interrogated or interviewed - a teenaged girl who’s very clearly Karen’s daughter walks through the sliding doors and smiles in their direction. Harry stands to hug his sister, teases her about her outfit, and introduces her to Allie. 

Katherine is sweet, smiles and waves and sits down in the empty seat at the table. She’s got hair the same colour as Karen’s, similar features, and Allie can’t help wondering what their dad looked like. She thinks Harry would show her a picture if she asked. Maybe she will later, but it feels...She just wants to be sensitive. 

Katherine is 15, has a bit of an edge to her attitude. It reminds Allie of how she was at that age, so she’s into it. She thinks Harry can tell. Katherine is apparently working as a lifeguard at the public swimming pool for the summer, and she had an orientation session for a couple hours after school. Allie doesn’t comment on that, but she does think Harry didn’t have a job in high school. Because he didn’t need one. So maybe Katherine wants to work? 

Later, in Harry’s bedroom when they’re getting ready to sleep and she asks about that, he laughs and shakes his head. 

“No, she doesn’t want to,” he says, then grins and pulls back the covers to get into bed. “Mom caught her with a joint and the punishment is a summer working, after which she’ll donate all the money she made to this youth mental health non-profit.”

Allie presses her lips together to keep from laughing or smiling too widely, slips her legs between the sheets and moves closer to him. They’ve opened the windows so there’s a bit of a breeze. Allie likes the cool air, and likes being near him, too. 

“Honestly, sounds like a pretty good punishment,” she says, and decides not to comment on the fact that the first night she met him, he was vaping weed from a vape pen she now knows cost several hundred dollars. “They’re great.”

Harry hums. “I think they like you.”

“You think?” she asks, laughing. “Not sure?”

He smiles, reaches over and turns off the light, and slides his fingers across her cheek, tips her face up so he can kiss her. “Pretty sure.”

… … …

In the morning, she wakes up alone and doesn’t really like that. She checks the time and it’s only 8:30, so she doesn’t have to feel badly for oversleeping, or anything. Harry’s texted her to shower if she wants and then come downstairs when she’s ready. So she does that. She pulls on the outfit she packed for today, makes the bed and tries to towel dry her hair enough that it won’t drip all over her shirt.

When she gets to the kitchen, the three of them are there, making breakfast and listening to music, Katherine cutting fruit at the kitchen island, his mom at the stove and him buttering toast. Allie would honestly take a photo if she hadn’t left her phone upstairs. 

“Good morning,” Karen says when she notices her. Harry turns around, gives her this really sort of gorgeous smile. She knows he loves this outfit. That’s not why she brought it. She feels good in it. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thank you.” She steps closer, wants to offer to help, ask what she can do, but Harry pulls her in, murmurs a good morning and kisses her forehead. “Morning.” 

“Whole wheat or sourdough?” he asks, and he’s grinning because he absolutely already knows the answer. 

“Sourdough,” she says, and he winks, which makes her roll her eyes at him. “Can I help?”

Karen smiles at her like she’s pleased Allie’s offered. “Would you mind setting the table?” she asks, gestures with her spatula to the edge of the kitchen island, where plates and cutlery for the four of them are already stacked. Allie nods and reaches for them. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Harry’s grinning to himself when she gets a good look at him. Allie’s not sure her own mom has ever even called her sweetheart. 

… … …

She and Harry go for a walk after breakfast. He doesn’t hold her hand as they make their way down the driveway. She puts her hands in her back pockets as they stroll down the street in this fancy neighbourhood where he grew up. He waves at some people who are out gardening, or whatever, and at one car that passes them. 

The thing that’s hitting her, the thing that she’s seeing really clearly, is that _this_ is who he is, and she’s known that all along. He’s the guy who butters toast at breakfast and makes fun of his little sister. He’s kind and polite to his neighbours and he loves his mom and he’s not some loud mouthed, obnoxious, rich asshole who doesn’t care about anyone else. 

She thinks that even if there are some people he _wants_ to see him that way, that’s not the vibe he puts off and it’s like the reputation he had in high school has followed him around. And she knows - he’s told her - that who he was in high school was a spoiled, smart brat who thought he was better than everyone, because that’s what he’d been led to believe. 

Seeing him here makes her feel awful that there are a bunch of people out there - friends of his, even - who think he’s just the hot headed guy who mouths off at people in bars sometimes and likes to have a good time. 

He notices her staring at him, apparently, asks, “What?” on this little laugh. 

Allie smiles, loops her arm through his because she doesn’t care who sees or what they think. “Nothing. I’m glad you brought me.”

He says, “Me, too,” and kisses her hair. 

Allie doesn’t entirely know what to do with these feelings, so she just finds a convenient little corner of her mind to tuck them away for now. She asks Harry if he’ll buy her something sweet in town. He tells her he’ll take her to his favourite bakery - the only bakery for miles - and treat her. 

… … …

His mom makes lasagna for dinner, some family recipe, she says. One from her mom, who got it from her grandma, who brought it from Italy when they came here. All Allie knows is that it smells incredible and the wine Karen chooses and opens is really good even though Allie doesn’t prefer wine. There’s tiramisu for dessert and Katherine’s making a snarky comment about how all the Italian bells and whistles are coming out to impress the company. Allie’s definitely flattered that she thinks it might be true. 

“You know,” she says after dinner, but before dessert, when Harry’s pouring them each a digestif and very obviously sneaking Katherine some as she clears plates. Allie’s partly talking to Karen just to keep the woman’s attention on her instead of Harry and Katherine. “I was kind of hoping the baby pictures would come out.” 

She smiles when Karen laughs. “He’ll kill me,” she says quietly, though she’s already getting up. “But I don’t know why. He was the cutest kid. You know, we had an agent ask us if we’d put him in for modeling or child acting.” Karen walks over to a cabinet in the living room, pulls out a navy blue book and closes the door again. She comes over, slips into the seat next to Allie - Harry’s seat. “I’m not sure you’re ready for this.”

Allie, feeling spurred on by the challenge and the smile on Karen’s face, downs the last little bit of wine in her glass and grins. “Hit me.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Harry says when he comes back over with the amaro.

“She asked!” 

“I did,” Allie confirms, shoots him a cute look with her nose scrunched up. He sighs and takes his mom’s spot at the table. “Apparently you were cute? Personally, I can’t see it.”

Harry plays with a dessert fork on the table and looks like he desperately wants to say something witty in response, but he’s holding back. 

Honestly? Honestly, Karen was right. She wasn’t ready. She definitely wasn’t ready to see photos of his dad holding him when he was a literal baby, or to notice the resemblance. Allie moves the book a little more towards her, and Karen is quiet a moment, then just has this little smile on her face. 

“It’s striking, isn’t it?” Karen finally asks, gentle, and Allie looks at Harry. He’s just watching her. “He was so handsome.”

“Yeah,” Allie says without thinking. She turns the page, sees one of Harry in a pair of overalls, clearly just beginning to walk. Harry’s dad is sat on the floor in the photo, looking at his son, his arms raised in victory. It makes her smile. It makes her emotional. “God, you look just like him.”

Harry still doesn’t say anything. She knows he’s heard this a million times, probably. And maybe she should be more delicate about it, be more thoughtful about how it might make him feel that she’s someone who’s said it, now, too. 

Katherine, with her perfect timing, comes over, holds her phone in front of Allie’s face, and says, “Let’s skip to the good stuff, though,” and Allie laughs out loud at the photo of him in what looks like 1700s garb. 

“It was a school play,” he says, and god, the pink in his cheeks is sort of incredibly cute. He looks at Katherine. “Where did you even get that? You were like, nine, and didn’t have a phone.”

“I have ways.”

Allie laughs, and they spend too long looking at his baby pictures, all the way up til he’s about eight in the images. Then Harry dishes up dessert and Karen goes off in search of the next album, and Allie looks at pictures of him with his baby sister, and at some church function, and high school dances, and prom. 

She knows this means that when he goes to her parents’ place for the first time, she’ll suffer through the same thing he is right now. He’s being pretty good-natured about it. 

Maybe it’s the two glasses of wine and the amaro and the fact that she genuinely thinks she’s making a good impression on his family, but she gives him a look after she’s closed the last album, smiles and she can tell he’s just waiting to hear what she has to say. 

“We don’t take enough pictures of you,” she says, and he rolls his eyes and laughs out her name. “No, I mean it. This face? We should be doing a lot more.”

Karen chuckles, smiles at them and says, “You’re an attractive couple,” and Allie takes it like the compliment it’s meant to be.

In bed that night, when she’s honestly resisting the urge to just climb on top of him and kiss him, he says, “I think my mom likes you more than me at this point.”

Allie just laughs and shakes her head, calls him crazy if he thinks that’s true. His mom looks at him like he put the stars in the sky. Truthfully? Allie kind of loves that for him. And she should be freaking out about how much she’s been thinking that word recently, but she’s not. It’s not scary with him. 

Allie climbs on top of him like she’s been wanting to, and he says her name quietly and she just smiles in return, leans back to pull her shirt off. Harry takes a breath that makes her heart beat faster, and then pushes her hair back off her face when she kisses him. 

… … …

Harry holds her hand almost the whole ride home, makes fun of her when she’s trying to text her sister with one hand and drops her phone twice. He tries to let go of her hand, but she doesn’t let him. She’s being silly, but she doesn’t care. And she takes his picture when he’s driving because he looks hot and she likes it. 

When he drops her at her house, she leans over to kiss him goodbye, and he doesn’t seem to want to let her go. 

“You have everything?” he asks, and Allie smiles, reaches for the door handle. 

“Why? You planning on never seeing me again?”

There’s this downright gorgeous look on his face when he says, “That’s not it.” 

She knew. She knows. 

Honestly, she enjoys her evening to herself, but she misses him, too. 

… … …

He replaces that fancy bottle of vodka. 

Rather, she’s invited people over to drink before going to the bar, and she texts him before he arrives and tells him she’s running low. He arrives with another bottle, gets cheers from Becca, Sam, Grizz and Helena. Luke laughs and sips his beer. Harry comments he should’ve brought two bottles, apparently, for this group of lushes. 

He also hooks his arm around Allie’s waist, drops a kiss to her lips and says, “Hey,” all softly, and Allie ignores the way their friends are looking at them. 

She and Harry haven’t exactly been big on PDA with this group of people around. But like, she went to meet his family, and everyone here knows that, and Allie doesn’t give a fuck what any of them think. She knows what they are, and he knows what they are, and she challenges anyone to try to poke holes in that. They won’t be successful.

One of Harry’s shirts is on a hanger on her closet door. The book he brought over last week is on her coffee table, because he finished it and he thinks she’ll like it, so he left it for her to read. He also reaches into her fridge and pulls out a bottle of whiskey he left, helps himself to a glass and pours for himself, and then everyone’s looking at them as he slides his hand along her back and moves past her to put the bottle back. 

“What?” Allie asks, screwing the cap back on the bottle of vodka. She’s laughing, because really, _what_?

“You’re being coupley,” Becca comments, but she’s grinning, too, like she likes what she’s seeing. 

“We’re a couple,” Harry replies simply, then drapes his arm around Allie’s shoulders and she reaches up to take his hand. 

Becca absolutely looks like she wants to say more, so Allie just sighs and gestures for her to come out with it already. 

“And here I was trying to save you both from each other,” she says. Harry chuckles, glances down at Allie. She thinks someone takes their photo, but can’t confirm. 

“Didn’t need saving,” Harry says, and Allie pulls a face. 

“Gross.” Harry laughs at her, asks where they’re even going tonight, and she gives him a look like he should know the answer. But she answers, “The only place we know you haven’t tried to fight someone over some kind of weird feud that may be imaginary.”

He narrows his eyes at her, but he’s grinning, takes a sip of his whiskey. Allie feels him playing with the ends of her hair behind her where no one else can see. 

She spends her evening dancing with her friends and catching him watching her, kissing him when she goes back to the table for breaks and to have sips of her drink. Harry covers her bar tab, slips outside to vape, and this feels so much like the first night she met him it’s making her head spin. 

They walk back to her place after, and this time he’s the one who stays over, not Becca, and when she wakes up with a headache in the morning, he’s already making coffee and bringing her ice water and saying he’s ordered McDonalds and it’ll be here in a couple minutes. 

Allie gets up to brush her teeth and pull her hair up, and then grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him. 

“Thanks,” she says, and he furrows his brow like he doesn't know what that’s about. 

They get back into her bed with their food and their coffee and have a playful argument over what to watch. Allie lets him win but he knows that’s the case. She thinks he might insist, as a result, that he doesn’t want the victory. When she tells him this, he laughs and asks, “Who do you think I am? A win is a win.” 

Allie finds even that endearing.


End file.
